


La Douleur Exquise

by VitaManere



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Multi, Victor Hugo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:52:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitaManere/pseuds/VitaManere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac concocts a plan, hoping to get to the bottom of Grantaire's peculiar feelings for Enjolras. (Canon Era)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Les débuts d'un régime

**Author's Note:**

> First story written for others viewing, I have to admit. I hope you find some joy in it :o)
> 
> The title, La Douleur Exquise, literally translates to "The Exquisite Pain". However, I've read that it is a French phrase which has no perfect translation into English for it's meaning. Pamela Haag, of site bigthink, describes it as: "The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have. When I came across this word I thought of “unrequited” love. It’s not quite the same, though. “Unrequited love” describes a relationship state, but not a state of mind. Unrequited love encompasses the lover who isn’t reciprocating, as well as the lover who desires. La douleur exquise gets at the emotional heartache, specifically, of being the one whose love is unreciprocated."

At first it felt like any other day at the Musain; the short-comings of which would soon become undoubtedly present upon all its usual occupants. Enjolras was ranting about something that Grantaire found inexplicably amusing, most of the L’ABC were entertained by the former and others were chatting trivially. It wasn't long until Enjolras and Grantaire began to divert into an argument. Albeit, it was clear Enjolras was swaying to stay on the path of his planned speech. Grantaire, however, had other plans, and true to form Enjolras was diverted by his predictably unpredictable behaviour.

A few members of the Amis were sitting a few meters back from the spectacle which had abruptly erupted, and Courfeyrac began to pose a thoughtful gaze in one direction.  
Joly, picking up on the peculiar expression, asked: “Courfeyrac, you have a glint in your eye the likes of which makes me suspicious – what are you thinking?”

Courfeyrac, turning to the speaker, smiled and said: “These conflicts we observe,” he began nudging his head towards the idealist and the cynic and lowering his voice a touch further “I do wonder whether our beloved drunkard would feel put out if someone else stole Enjolras’ attention.”

Bahorel stifled a spout of laughter. “Of course! What would Grantaire spend his time doing if not utilizing his talent for aggravating Enjolras?”

Joly spoke up again, then. “Finding pleasure at the bottom of a bottle, no doubt.”

Courfeyrac remained thoughtful, analyzing Grantaire from where he sat. “Evidently, but he enjoys this too much to let another overshadow him – don’t you think?”

Jehan must have passed the table, as he sat down brusquely and replied: “Ah, yes! He most certainly would be lost, I wager.”

Courfeyrac held another brief pause, before his eyes lit up with a look that indicated he’d thought of one of his ‘fool-proof’ plans. The gathering around Courfeyrac immediately shuffled closer, expecting the following hush-hush: “Fellows, I think I might utilize the visiting of my sister tomorrow.”

Bahorel perked an eyebrow up. “Oh?”

“Cerise is coming?” an enthusiastic voice reached from the further end of the table.

“Yes Bossuet,” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes comically to Lesgle. “Cerise is staying for a week or so.” The other blushed and Joly hit him around the head in an amiable manner.

Now Bahorel rolled his eyes at Bossuet, before questioning Courfeyrac further with interest. “What are you proposing, Courf?”

“Well,” Courfeyrac entwined his fingers together mischievously. “I was thinking we could ask Cerise to get close to Enjolras; offering assistance and supporting his views, you know.” He finished by waving his hand in the air.

“Get close to Enjolras?” Bahorel frowned comically. “ _Enjolras_?”

“Well, as close as one can get to Enjolras without being strung up and high-quartered.”

Jehan intervened again, this time, looking slightly perplexed and cautious. “For what purpose would this serve?” he inquired innocently.

Before Courfeyrac had moment to respond, Joly spoke again. “Wait…” Everyone turned their heads in his direction, Jehan hoping Joly’s intermission would equally provide an answer to his question. “You want to make Grantaire jealous?” The last word was almost muted, as though some provocative interpretation may be false and cause discomfiture.

“Of sorts, yes.” Courfeyrac confirmed, and then elaborated. “You yourselves agreed that Grantaire has some odd fascination with countering Enjolras and grabbing his attentions, so perhaps someone stealing that would provoke some reaction in Grantaire. If it were one of us, Grantaire may not find circumstances too unusual… but, Cerise. Grantaire is bound to notice if an irregular is diverting Enjolras.”

The Amis surrounding Courfeyrac took upon pondering looks and nods of affirmation. Bahorel, however, still looked doubtful and amused. He took upon playing the Devil’s advocate. “Enjolras will just dismiss her.” There was a short pause to consider, followed by unanimous murmurs of assent to Bahorel’s point.

“Of course he will.” Courfeyrac laughed. “But I reckon he’ll warm to her if she shows a significant interest in our cause. He’ll certainly pay her more notice than he will to others. He’s always happy to recruit the like-minded.”

Bahorel reflected, before voicing his remaining reservations. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Courf, undoubtedly.” He raised his glass to that. The others followed suit.


	2. Mise en mouvement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire makes a grand entrance at the Musain.

Afternoon the next day, the Musain was occupied with the habitual patrons, predominantly being the L’ABC, and the foreseeable visitors. Cerise had found her way safely in her reunion with Courfeyrac that morning, of whom had gone through the scheme of the previous day. Cerise, having a personality similar to Courfeyrac, was more than happy to follow through. Her mind immediately bustled with ideas, having witnessed Grantaire’s behaviours on occurrences before. She had met with the group on a few instances in the not-so-distant past, usually on special occasions and random visits. She’d found no qualms with any of the Amis, fitting in quite well with the entire group. Like Courfeyrac was a ‘centre’, Cerise was easily adaptable to multiple temperaments and natures.

She scheduled to arrive at the Musain soon.

Enjolras was conversing with Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Marius and Feuilly when Grantaire made a grand entrance. Grantaire was always characteristically noticeable when entering the Musain, so was he when making his way to the top floor to meet the group this day. Enjolras barely spared a glance before turning his head back around to continue his conversation, back facing the arriving Grantaire. The latter was welcomed by other occupants with friendliness and benign amusement, and it was not long before Grantaire noticed the back of Enjolras conversing with the aforementioned members of the group. Already somewhat intoxicated, as was typical, Grantaire staggered towards Enjolras with his arms open wide, stopping just a few feet away from his turned form.

“Apollo!” Grantaire exclaimed devotedly once he was sure Enjolras was ignoring his obvious presence. Enjolras sighed, frustrated, and swiftly turned to face the other, giving him a black look for interrupting his conversation with drabble. Grantaire remained with arms outstretched, and Enjolras feared he might soon embrace him. Enjolras crossed his arms over his chest, already impatient with the man in front of him.

“You’re already inebriated?” he questioned with distaste, posture unmoving.

Grantaire dropped his arms back to his sides and smirked, but took no notice of what was more a rhetorical statement than a question requiring an answer. Instead, Grantaire took a step closer to Enjolras and lightly touched his jaw with two fingers, gently moving his head to either side as though examining a precious jewel beneath a magnifying glass. Despite his shock at the gesture, Enjolras was too slow to react by retreating or breaking contact. Before the chance occurred, Grantaire’s hands were returned and he was considering Enjolras with an exaggerated sense of awe. Bewildered, Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows further.

“Oh! What a lovely looking statue!” Grantaire finally called, wittily, revolving his body and raising his arms briefly to regard the onlookers to the spectacle occurring between himself and Enjolras. Combeferre took a considerate glance towards Enjolras, whose eyes did not once leave the face of Grantaire with that fixed expression. Many of the spectators grinned or held a stifled laughter. Enjolras did not move.

“Grantaire…” Enjolras muttered with warning, his patience clearly being tested. But, as was conventional, Grantaire did not heed this. On the contrary, his smirk grew wider.

“But look! It moves and speaks my name! Surely this must be a trick of the light? Has the mighty Apollo swooped down from Olympus to take me with his painless arrow? Mercy be spared, Apollo! You have answered my prayers despite my faithless dogma!”

Enjolras' face was reddening and his fists clenched tightly to his sides. A definite last warning. It crossed Grantaire's mind that Enjolras' 'pretty head might swell and explode'.

“Grantaire.”

“Be easy, Apollo.”

Grantaire placed a hand on the other's right shoulder for the most fleeting of moments, before a voice penetrated the growing tension no one else had dared interrupt.

"Courfeyrac, _mon frère_!"

Grantaire turned, following the actions of all other Musain occupants, as Cerise stood at the top of the stairs to the second floor of the Musain, arms open to greet her brother.


	3. l'arrivée

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac's sister, Cerise, arrives at the Musain.

"Cerise!" Courfeyrac called back, passing through the others to hug his beloved sister. He flashed her a look of knowing as he pulled away, with her winking in return. "Everyone," Courfeyrac addressed to the room "this is my beautiful and lovely sister, Cerise. Some of you have met her before, no doubt you remember." She smiled and bowed courteously to her brother's words, before turning her full attention to Enjolras.

"Enjolras! I would remember you from anywhere. You have not changed a bit since I saw you last! Two years ago, was it?" She said this delightfully and practically skipping past Grantaire to shake Enjolras' hand.

"Yes, that seems right. It's nice to see you." He gave a pleasant and welcoming smile in return. She gave a coy half-smile before returning to reunite with the others, or introduce herself to those she had not been already accustomed. Courfeyrac wore a satisfied look the likes of which indicated he was proud of her ability to act. She did, of course, very much get along with all the Amis, including Enjolras, but Courfeyrac knew that she had added subtle clues of marked affection that Grantaire would no doubt pick up on, and Enjolras was just as sure to miss.

 

***

 

Cerise, Courfeyrac and those remaining of the Amis who knew the plan - Bahorel, Jehan, Bossuet, and Joly - were discussing Grantaire's current reactions but an hour after Cerise's arrival. Grantaire appeared apprehensive in manner, who was now drinking alone in one corner of the room, seemingly in attempt to overview both Cerise and Enjolras while trying to seem uninterested and nonchalant. It was certainly not hard to see through, if you knew where to look.

"You already seem to be having an effect on our Grantaire, dear sister." Courfeyrac remarked around their table of six. The others concurred. They knew Grantaire all too well, and his eyes leaked veiled concern since the arrival of Cerise, and her encounter with Enjolras.

"Do excuse me, _mes amis_. I think I shall try on conversing further with your _chef de file en rouge._ " Cerise informed the table, standing and crossing the room to join Enjolras, Combeferre, Feuilly and Marius. The remaining five's eyes all moved to the corner's occupant, then, who seemed to straighten a little at the movement of Cerise. Cerise seemed to be fitting in with Enjolras' discussion pretty quickly, and Grantaire's attention was rapt, and his veil was slipping.

Suddenly, Grantaire arose from his place in the corner and joined Courfeyrac's table, taking Cerise's former spot. He was not wanting to be so obvious as to move closer to Enjolras and Cerise, but it was clear to the others that he had been alerted from his stupor and may find information from someone. They greeted Grantaire as he sat down, as they always did, but he was generally absent-minded to anything but the other end of the room.

"I was not aware that your sister was visiting, Courfeyrac. How long are we blessed with her company?" Grantaire asked, in casual a manner as he could manage.

"Mayhaps a week or two. She was passing by on her way to _Réau_ , where our father is living. I would go along with her and visit him myself, but much like Enjolras and Marius' family respectively, he does not much care for our  _révolution_. I'm sure he is not too fond that she is here in Paris, but her charm is easy to persuade even the sternest of men."

"I see." Grantaire responded, eyes still averted to other matters.

"She is even lovelier than I remember." Bossuet added abruptly, dreamily gazing in her direction. Joly and Bahorel simultaneously puffed out a sigh that sounded tiresome, yet regaled.

"She is very pretty." Jehan agree'd, nodding. Being the hopeless romantic he was, he smiled sympathetically at Bossuet, who was still too raptured to note of responses. It made Joly wonder as to whether he knew he'd spoken aloud at all, which roused from him an involuntary chuckle.

"Luck to you, _mon Ami,_ but I must inform you that someone has already rather caught my sister's eye." Coufeyrac said, making special note of somebody's expression. Bossuet looked genuinely dismayed for a second, until a gentle nudge from Joly awoke a slow realization in his features; that this conversation was for the benefit of Grantaire's ears. The aforementioned snapped back to attention, as though piqued from a lucid day dream.

"Is that so?" Bahorel asked, holding in the urge to laugh at Grantaire's sudden interest.

"She has been quite enraptured with them for some time." Courfeyrac informed convincingly.

"Do we know of them?" inquired Joly, keeping up the act on par with the former.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell much. Cerise convinced me rather firmly to promise not to speak of who the object of her affections might be."

"Though we should all now assume from your words, Courfeyrac, that Bossuet is not the man." Joly contended, again nudging his friend on the shoulder. Though Bossuet now knew this was for purpose of the plan, he still shot what Joly thought to be a genuine, though spirited, glare. Bossuet followed by pushing Joly's side with his arm, momentarily winding him and arousing a burst of laughter from Bahorel and half-hearted disapproval from Jehan. This was something Grantaire would usually react comparitively to Bahorel, yet today he stood up without acknowledgment and wordlessly went to get another bottle of wine.

His fifth they had witnessed.


	4. Une lumière qui ne se s'éteint jamais

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius is questioned on his distant behaviour, and finds an unlikely supporter.

"Courfeyrac," Jehan started, nervously "I'm not so sure about this."

"How do you mean?" Courfeyrac questioned in a perplexed tone.

Jehan nudged his head towards Grantaire, who was retrieving the sixth bottle they'd seen him with tonight. Albeit, as Enjolras pointed out only an hour earlier, he arrived far beyond the line labelled "inebriated". Courfeyrac took a glance at Grantaire, making a stumbled way back to the table.

"He'll be fine. We've all seen Grantaire much worse than this." Courfeyrac replied, keeping his tone lower as Grantaire returned. Despite his reassurances to Jehan and the others, it contained an undercurrent of doubt that everyone listening could pick up on. Albeit, Jehan nodded minutely and sat back quietly.

Almost on cue to Grantaire's return, Marius came over and pulled up a chair to the table, placing himself on the other side of Joly. His eyes looked far away and distant, immediately arousing a reaction from the young man he'd sat beside.

"Marius, what's wrong today? You look as though you've seen a ghost these two days past." Joly started. It was a fair and true judgement; Marius had appeared quite far-away in his thoughts over the last couple of days, enough for Enjolras to take note of and scold when he had arrived uncharacteristically late to meetings.

"Some wine and say what's going on!" Grantaire interjected, momentarily distracted and pouring wine into a cup to place it in front of a now blushing Marius.

"A ghost? Maybe. She seemed that way to me." Marius replied in a vague and dreamlike voice, comparable only faintly to an earlier speaking Bossuet.

" _She_?" Bahorel questioned, confusion etching his features.

Marius looked as though he might open his mouth to speak, but Grantaire was too quick in his next exclamation.

"Ah, I see it! Is it not clear? The young Marius, in love! I am agog, I am aghast, I have never laid eyes on him as such. Yes, he must have found his Marie, Marion, Maria, or Mariette! I know just what it is like... Ecstasies in which they forget to kiss. Their souls, they lie among the stars." Grantaire raised his bottle, as though saluting to the Heavens. The Amis had never seen such a disorderly and drunkard of a man speak so eloquent and poetically as he so often did, that was for sure. Jehan, the impassioned poet he was, smiled at Grantaire's words as the other lowered his bottle and continued to drink. Residents close-by and across the room seemed to turn their attention to the conversation now, causing a more permanent flush in Marius' cheeks. Enjolras had turned around, leaning against his table while Combeferre was talking to him, though he was eyeing Marius and the general discussion suspiciously. No doubt, he was wondering why Marius has turned up late to his last speech and rally, and hoped the answers may be provided.

Bahorel scoffed skeptically. It was not mean-spirited, but merely in jest. "And what would _you_ know of love, my drunken friend?"

"I know plenty of things, _mon cher_." Grantaire tipped his bottle with a wink. Bahorel simply rolled his eyes.

"Assuming Grantaire is correct in his assumptions, who is the _she_ of whom you speak?" Courfeyrac asked, then.

"I do not know her name, but how I long to know. I hoped Éponine would find out on my behalf; the task of which she is now undertaking."

"Then questions are answered as to your late arrivals of recent." Joly stated, containing a snicker.

Marius averted his eyes down to the table, embarrassed but still smiling like one naïve in love.

Grantaire's expression seemed to change from amusement to one of stupefaction, turning everyone's attention to the direction of his eye-line. Enjolras was silently standing behind Courfeyrac, arms folded as they often were when he oozed disappointment. Marius looked up from the table and connected eye contact between them, but he only blinked stupidly.

Enjolras began, then, fervently and strong. "Is this only a game for you to play, Marius? The revolution has barely begun, and yet your mind is already preoccupied. There is a higher cause at stake, don't you see? We are no longer children. I do not doubt you mean it well, but what shall become of _notre pays_ if we allow ourselves distractions?"

Again, Marius dropped his head. Unlike before, this time with an anchored look of shame and childlike chagrin.

A screech had filled the silence following Enjolras' words, and Enjolras turned to look at the man whose chair had sang as he rose. It appeared that, without warning, Grantaire had stood from his seat with all the swiftness of a sober man. Initially, Enjolras wore a look of slight surprise, of which was soon replaced by a tedious expectancy.

"Our almighty Apollo talks of battles to be won!" Grantaire declared to the closest men in the room, addressing his arms outwards. "And here sits Don Juan, dreaming of his new and first lady love! It is better than an opera!"

Marius looked up cautiously, wearing a small smile, as the others failed to contain their laughter at Grantaire's exclamation. Enjolras looked positively furious, but Grantaire did not seem to notice. Either this, or he did not care, for he sat back in his seat - grinning - and lifted the bottle to his lips once more. Before the wine reached his mouth, there was the sound accompanying the pulling out of a chair. Grantaire's eyes looked sideways to see that the formerly empty seat on his other side was occupied. Enjolras was sitting there, resolutely facing his left side. Grantaire turned his head, the bottle autonomously lowering from his parted lips. There was a tension and uncertainty in the air that seemed like a silent void, despite a contained chatter of Musain occupants blind to the scene. The table, however, did fall utterly and completely still. Even Joly stopped laughing to accompany Grantaire's wide-eye'd expression.

"Do tell, winecask, why exactly you are here? You believe not in the _République_ we desire, of our cause, for which we toil and fight. You too see only folly in my words. There is absolutely nought of which you believe. So tell me, why _are_ you here?"

"It is a free country for which you strive, so why must you question my motives? I wish to speak, to drink, to laugh with my comrades. I'm sure such things are lost upon _Apollo Helios,_ but neither are they unheard or unseen."

"I might, perhaps, assume what you say. I have considered so before. Although, it does appear to me that you have never missed a rally of ours; I have seen you at every one. You have never missed a speech. There are late arrivals, always, but never absence. You do not portray to me a man who is seeking to be convinced or swayed, so what is it you gain?"

Grantaire now fully, but lightly, dropped his bottle to the table. It looked as though he may again stand as he had so suddenly done before, but he did not.

"I see a light which never goes out" Grantaire said, his tone soft and close to abstinence.

Mystification painted the faces of all those surrounding. Enjolras almost came to interject, probably to ask what on earth Grantaire was talking about, but he had already continued an inscrutable elaboration.

"I do not believe what you pursue, of that you are not wrong, but there is _something_ in which I believe."

Enjolras shook his head. "You are incapable."

"I would think so, too, but I believe in  _you_."

Grantaire did stand, now, taking his bottle and leaving the table. He crossed the room to the bar and left Enjolras looking after him, more unclear than ever.


End file.
